


Summer Rain

by slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Barn Sex, F/M, Ichatrina, Jealousy, Romance, Sexual Content, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl/pseuds/slight_Ichatrina_obsessed_sleepyfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long day of tending the sick, Katrina receives an unwanted visit from Ichabod Crane. To say the least, the approaching thunderstorm is the least of his problems due to the very hot-tempered red head with whom he's faced. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick one shot I've had stored away for a while

The smell of rain.

It was one of those wonders in nature that never failed to fill her with a sense of peace. She supposed it was the fact that it was the smell of something that had yet to make its appearance that intrigued her so deeply. The way one moment everything was normal and, the very next, the impending act of nature was signaling its approach by invading her senses.

The dark sky overhead promised such an event; one she knew would begin its first verse any moment. That knowledge quickened her movements as she secured the supplies scattered along the table and carried them into the infirmary; praying she didn't soon become soaked to the bone.

Ever attempting to do her utmost for her community, she and a few other kind souls had set up a few tables outside the infirmary to offer treatment out in the warm, summer sun. When, so often, the townspeople used work and other various activities as excuses to avoid seeing to their illness', she'd hoped the visual picture of them out in the open might encourage a few stubborn souls to stop during their busy day for aid.

However, plans hadn't gone too well as the doctor had failed to arrive at all, seemingly held up by more important work, leaving her and the only other available nurse short-handed.

Thankfully, they'd been able to make do with the steady stream of patients, only falling behind a handful of times throughout the day.  
Now, as her friend had needed to leave early as one of her children had come calling, she was left alone to clean up their work area before the coming storm made its landing.

With a weary breath, she finally managed to clear everything, save the last remaining table, which she eyed with a measure of intimidation as it had taken both she and Belinda to carry it out.

Knowing it wasn't going to suddenly become any easier, she gripped the edge and grunted under the weight as she began dragging it up the steps... Or attempting to drag it up the steps anyway.

Heart pounding in her ears from the exertion of only moving it a few feet, she glanced back at the stone steps that would surely leave a nasty bruise if she tripped, the thought causing her to make an attempt to place her feet more carefully.

Surprisingly, when she tried to pull the table over the first step, she came up short as it wouldn't budge. In slight aggravation, she jerked around to glare at it as though it were an actual person causing her problems and was, to her shock, met with the smirking face of her husband.

"Are you in need of some assistance, Mrs. Crane?"

The natural chemistry she shared with the beautiful man before her would normally have had her falling into a friendly banter over the situation, but, after the previous night and his obtuse treatment of her, she had nothing for him but a heated glare.

"No, Captain," she tersely replied, teeth grinding and eyes narrowing into slits. "I'll do just fine on my own if you'll promptly take your lecherous hands off of it."

The lighthearted expression slipped from his face to be replaced with one of mild frustration. "Katrina," he whispered, his shoulders slumping. "You're turning this into more than it is."

The gall of him!

Surprised she didn't force her teeth right through her gums, she gripped the table even harder and gave a violent pull. "Let. Go."

Steadfast and resolute as ever, he maintained his stare with her, clearly hoping she would relent; something he should've known better than to do as she never relented; most especially when she was livid and ready to rip him to shreds.

When it became obvious she wasn't giving in, a heavy sigh slipped between his lips as he released the table and stepped back; his tall, lean form resuming his usual stiff posture.

Satisfied with having rid herself of his unwanted assistance, she returned to her task, expertly ignoring him as she tugged the ridiculously heavy table up the steps and, despite the strain to her every muscle it was taking to accomplish her mission, she attempted to maintain a facade of little exerted effort as she struggled to pull it through the door. If he asked, she'd say it was as light as a feather. At least, that's what she tried to imagine as the back leg caught on the top step and she was jerked to a halt just inside the door.

Muscles now burning, there wasn't a single part of her that wanted him to know she was effected. So, to cover her tracks, she turned her back, effectively blocking his sight of her intake of a much needed breath and brought a hand up to wipe through her hair before giving over her last burst of strength to tug it into the building.

The good Lord must have taken sympathy on her for the table gave only a loud screech of protest as it finally relented and permitted her to finish her task.

Stepping out of his sight, she leaned against the wall and doubled over, her body letting her know she'd nearly overdone it with her little streak of stubbornness.

Hands kneading at her aching limbs, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before glancing at the still open door where she knew her husband was expectantly waiting for her to make another appearance; most likely with a nervous expression and fidgety hands.

Perfect.

Now, at the end of things to distract her from acknowledging him, she pulled the door shut and locked it before spinning on her heel and making her way down the steps, setting herself on a straight path for her house while conpletely avoiding his gaze.

"Katrina..."

His voice had taken on a pitiful tone, which as much as she wanted to deny it, crept into her heart and squeezed. She knew she could only ignore him for so long, but, at this moment, she simply refused to give him a reprieve as he certainly didn't deserve one.

Eyes trained straight ahead, she considered that the next half hour walk was going to be torturously long.

"My love-"

"Stop attempting to make conversation with me," she bit out, promptly cutting off whatever apology he'd had building.

She had no need for his half thought out excuses or pleads for forgiveness. The anger she held within herself over his lack of foresight and wholly disrespectful behavior toward their marriage was so thick she could hardly breathe. It felt like an actual knot of anger was lodged in her chest. To attempt ignoring it was to take on the impossible as the wounds were still too fresh; too vivid.

Thankfully, he fell into silence as he trailed behind her like a puppy with its tail between its legs after receiving a proper scolding.  
Anyone observing them would probably think she were being cruel, or inconsiderate. Then, again, anyone who knew them would likely know how deeply in love they were and, if they were at odds, there was undoubtedly a very good reason, which there most definitely was.

After a few moments, the intense urge to turn and check on him started to develop within her, but she shoved it down, contenting herself with, instead, checking the sky.

It was then that she felt a cold drop of water splatter against her forehead.

Perfect.

By the time they reached their house, she'd likely be soaked to the bone and freezing no less.

Despite the quickening of her steps in an attempt to outrun the storm, it wasn't enough as they were only half way home when the heavens decided to open up and release a flood upon them. It happened so fast that she barely had time to gather her skirts in her hand to begin her dash forward.

Visibility quickly became an issue along with the fact that the cracks of lightening every few seconds successfully had her nerves frayed to the edge.

While she loved the smell of rain and the beauty it offered, actual thunderstorms were low on her list of things she enjoyed experiencing, most especially not when she was out in the middle of them with no shelter in sight.

When his hand rested along her back, steady and strong, she was quite thankful, though she refused to voice it; not that he'd hear it over the volume of the storm.

They made a bit of progress with him guiding her until a tree about six yards ahead of them suddenly received a bolt to its side, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin due to the proximity.

Heart beating wildly in her chest, she blinked through the rain pouring in torrents down her face, grateful the now smoking tree had taken the bolt rather than them.  
It was then that Ichabod gripped her arm and began tugging her off the road, heading for the line of trees.

For a second, she was confused over why he would lead them off the path that would surely guide them home. However, that confusion evaporated when she saw he was leading her toward the Hubbard's old barn.

In moments, he was pushing her through their neighbor's barn door; a thankful shelter from the storm.

Once inside, she brought a trembling hand up to push her plastered hair from her face as she turned to watch him struggle to pull the large door shut; fighting against the wind holding it open.

Finally, after a moment's more struggle, it slammed shut with a loud clang, allowing Ichabod to collapse against it, his chest rising and falling at a rapid rate as he ran his hands down his face.

"It'll pass quickly," she muttered, smoothing a hand down her soaked dress in an attempt to gather herself.

The winds howled around the old barn, prompting her to glance up at the high rafters in the hope that nothing worse came to pass. Storms of this magnitude and greater were among her worst fears. Lightening, tornadoes, and great winds had the ability to cripple her with fear if they became violent enough.

However, her thoughts of the storm vanished when she felt his hands smoothing over her arms and face as he searched her over.

"Are you injured in any way?"

Unready to meet his gaze, she shook her head, suddenly finding the littered floor very interesting. "I'm fine."

"Katrina, I beg of you to look at me."

The heartfelt plea was too much to ignore, prompting her to slowly lift her eyes and take in the sorrow and concern pouring from his every feature.

"You know I would never betray you; not for anyone, or anything."

Suddenly reminded of why she was ignoring him in the first place, she clenched her jaw and turned from him, unable to stare into his pure eyes. Those blue eyes were always her undoing and she wasn't having any of it.

"Katrina, you witnessed what happened," he groaned, his voice tinged with a healthy dose of grief. "I did nothing to encourage her."

Heart pounding in her ears, she spun on him, her finger lifted to point at his face. "Nor did you rebuke her!"

Hands jerking out to his sides, he gestured his surrender. "I simply didn't wish to embarrass her."

"Simply?" she asked, with a large amount of incredulity. "There was nothing simple about allowing Betsy Ross to kiss you; to put her hands on you."

"Katrina," he whispered, a defeated sigh slipping from his nose. "She wasn't exactly herself."

"I don't care if she'd consumed all the drink in the world," she bit out, her eyes narrowed into slits. "You should have stopped her. You should have told her you were a married man whom she had no business to even think such things toward."

The immediate nod of his head only furthered her aggravation. She absolutely loathed when he did that.

"Don't pretend to agree with me just to placate me," she demanded with a stomp of her foot as though she were suddenly reverted to a school girl. "This is far from being over, Ichabod Crane."

His eyes fell closed as he brought a hand to wipe down his face. "What do you want me to say, Katrina?"

"I don't know!" she shouted, only to be drowned out by a deafening clap of thunder.

Gaze flickering to the shaking barn doors, she worried they might fly open at any moment; exposing them to the violent storm waging war just on the other side.

"I love you," he whispered as he stepped toward her, sending her very heart to ramming inside her chest. "Only you. I know you know that, but I just..." He shrugged rather helplessly. "I've never known you to be so jealous."

That was absolutely the worst thing he could have said.

"I am not jealous," she bit with a glare, slapping his hands away from their attempt to touch her. "I'm righteously furious."

He pursed his lips, his own aggravation becoming apparent. "You were never this way when Abraham ran around town, flirting and kissing whomever he wanted."

A blaze of fury swept through her as she closed the distance between them and shoved him back with both hands planted against his chest. "Because I was too busy watching you, you self important idiot!"

He attempted to grab her hands, but she deflected them and shoved him again.

"Katrina-"

"I didn't care what Abraham did because I was never in love with him." She slapped his chest. "My gaze was always on you; you and all the women you took notice of, including that brainless, idiot, Betsy Ross."

She threw a finger at the barn door.

"Perhaps, you should have married her since you have so much in common what with all of the idiocy the two of you produce." Ignoring his incredulous gaze, she carried on, "You could have had repulsive, idiotic children who would have rambled on about unimportant things the way you both do."

The fact that she was fully aware that she was dissolving into idiocy herself was irrelevant. She wasn't the one who had allowed another to partake of what only belonged to her husband.

"Katrina, you're being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" she asked, her eyes widening. "I suppose if we go to the tavern tonight and one of my old flames decides to take in too much drink and kiss me, it'll be just fine so long as I don't make a scene."

Silence greeted her; the only indication that she'd struck a nerve being his clenched jaw as he looked away from her.

"Exactly, Ichabod. You'd be furious."

"I'm not saying I wouldn't be!" he shouted, his hands rolled into fists. "I'd put hands on any man who dared to touch you."

A brief reprieve from her anger welled within her as she swallowed down her anger and whispered, the level of tension between them weighing on her, "Then, do not scold my own anger."

The frustration seemed to drain right out of him as his eyes softened and he tentatively reached up to touch her face, something that sent an unwanted thrill through her, bringing every nerve she had to attention. She hated his power over her.

"Forgive me, my love. I did not realize how much it hurt you." He ducked his head to catch her eyes. "But please tell me you at the very least know it meant nothing to me."

"Of course, I know that."  
Arrogance practically dripped from her lips. "I sincerely doubt Betsy ever made you come undone the way I do."

Shock spread over his face before delight took its place and he chuckled. "No, no one is capable of that but you, my love."

With a nod, she tangled her fingers in the front of his soaked shirt and tugged him against her, allowing their lips to brush as she spoke, the warmth of their breath a calming comfort. "You belong to me."

"Yes," he whispered, his eyes falling closed as he tilted further toward her. "You."

Confidence rising within her, she shoved him back, leaving him to knock into the barn post before she followed and pressed into him, her mouth firmly finding his and sinking into it.

His hands came to her waist with his grunt of surprise as she began making quick work of the buttons on his trousers, all sorts of dark intentions rising within her mind.

"Kat-"

Biting down on his bottom lip, she cut him off, her fingers tangling in his wet hair to pull his mouth harder into her, the hot feel of his cavern as he accepted her sending a pulse of sheer lust through her as she finally pushed his trousers down his legs and took hold of him, flexing her fingers along the velvety flesh as his breath caught on a sharp note.

"You belong to me," she whispered, her slender fingers on his most intimate part making her claim all the more real.

"Katrina..." he moaned, his hands gripping the sides of her soaked dress and pulling her closer.

"Tell me," she bit out, twisting her hand as her mouth trailed up to his ear. "Tell me you're mine."

A shudder passed through his body as she dipped her tongue into the hollow shell, tracing the hard skin and enjoying the way his cock twitched against her palm.

"Yes..."

Slowly beginning to pump his length, she pressed, "No, say it. Say that you belong to me."

The desired response fell from his lips in a repetitive manner over the next few minutes as she brought him to the edge, his stiff cock slickening her hand from his need to release.

"Don't you ever forget that," she said, stepping away from him as her eyes trained on his pulsing cock which was peeking out from beneath his shirt as he battled for every breath.

He was a sight to behold; his shirt hanging at his thighs with his trousers caught on the tops of his boots; his wet hair clinging to his flushed cheeks as his blue eyes bore into her, clear want exuding from them. If she were a weak woman, she'd have never taken her hands from him. However, this wasn't about pleasure. This was a lesson.

"I would never forget that," he answered, as he leaned his head against the barn post, his chest pushing out, making his panting all the more obvious.

After a moment of watching him attempt to pull himself back together, she tilted her head. "You'd best not."

His eyes caught hers as his throat bobbed in a hard swallow that had the corners of her mouth twitching in want of a smile.

The sound of the storm beating against the roof gave a nice rhythm to match her breathing which had picked up considerably. One look at Ichabod let her know he was in the same state.

"It doesn't seem to be letting up," she offered with a suggestive look.

He stared at her a moment before clumsily shaking his head. "No, it- it doesn't."

He sounded positively parched which only furthered her desire. There was a desperation about him now, but she knew he wouldn't ask. He was too much of a gentleman to ask.

Taking a step toward him, she lifted a hand to trace a stray line of water that was trickling down his face, acting as though he were its canvas. When it reached his chin, she took the drop with the tip of her finger and caught his eyes as she brought it to her mouth, thoroughly enjoying the sight of his eyes following her actions. He looked like a man mesmerized, like a man who knew exactly to whom he belonged.

"Make it up to me."

Gaze lingering on her mouth, he breathed, "How?"

"You know how," she responded, watching his throat once again bob as his eyes flickered to hers.

The way he was staring at her now, his chest still panted and his eyes glazed over with need, were all it took for her to know her point had landed just as she'd desired. He looked like a man entranced as he reached to tug up his trousers enough to move.

Then, his hands were on her hips, firm and steady, as he guided her backward towards the other side of the barn.

Upon reaching it, he knelt before her, enticing her to bite back a smile.

Yes, her husband knew exactly what she wanted.

He reached for the hem of her dress and began pushing it upward, his hands teasingly sliding along her skin, already familiar with every inch of her. Now, she was the canvas and his hands the brush.

When he had the material high enough, he bent forward, his lips making contact with the inside of her thigh where he brushed them back and forth in light strokes.

Fingers finding a home in his hair, she twirled his locks between them, gently pulling and pushing his head where she wanted. The slightest touch from him was like a thief to her lungs, one she would give every breath to just to keep him close.

In response, his hands gripped the back of her thighs, sliding up and over her ample flesh to pull her harder into him as he sucked at the juncture where her leg met her sex, causing the anticipation for where he was headed to get the better of her.

"Ichabod..."

With a bit of maneuvering, he slipped a hand from beneath her dress and reached for the one she had in his hair. Pulling back, he tugged her down to where she was kneeling in front of him, their gazes level and their breathing mingled.

After a brisk peck to her lips, he slid a hand to her neck and guided her back onto the straw littered barn floor.

"You're so generous," he whispered, his lips meeting the side of her neck and moving down over her collarbone. "Intelligent..." As he sucked at the prominent bone that stood out from her neck, he continued, "Beautiful..."

More inclined to give into the feelings coursing through her veins now than making a point, she rested her head in the straw, her eyes on the roof of the barn, taking in the way the flashes of lightening jumped over it. Strangely, the flashes almost seemed to charge her desire even further. There was something erotic about it. It was dangerous, enticing, much like her husband's mouth as it came into contact with the tops of her breasts, his tongue slipping beneath the material of her dress to seek the flesh underneath.

Arm coming around his head to rest over his shoulders, she closed her eyes and shivered as his hand fumbled around the folds of her dress, allowing the cool air to invade her intimate area. When he finally managed to shove the material away, she groaned as he trailed his hand over her thigh.

"Are you ever going to touch me?"

She could practically feel his smirk as he breathed hotly over her skin, goose bumps popping up wherever he went. "Patience."

"You know, I'm not patient," she whispered, her breathing much heavier than she'd realized.

His response was lost in the folds of her dress as he moved down her body, spreading her legs apart so he could settle between them, his warm breath sparking a shiver in her as he breathed over her sex.

When he lifted her legs to slip them over his shoulders, she sucked in a breath to hold with the knowledge of what was coming. That first touch always felt so good that it was borderline painful.

She wasn't disappointed as his lips finally brushed her flesh, sending shocks up her spine and prompting her to stare down her body to see his eyes trained on her face.

His hand lifted, his fingers wrapping around hers to pull it down where he threaded them so their palms were pressed together. With his other hand, he lifted her higher which had his mouth completely consuming her for a moment before his tongue slid over her from top to bottom.

"Yes," she whispered, squeezing his fingers and dropping her head back into the straw. "That."

He repeated the action, causing her entire lower body to clench, including her legs around his shoulders as she arched off the ground.

When his lips clamped down on her clit, she gave a small moan, feeling her mind go completely numb for a moment as his tongue swirled around the protruding flesh.

Another flash of lightning lit the barn, the crack of thunder that followed reverberating throughout her entire body. The feeling of it had her pulse pounding at a quicker rate and her breaths coming out in sharper gasps. That slow build that she was accustomed to was coming much faster than normal. Whether the cause was the lightning and thunder, or just her general emotions at the moment, she honestly didn't care. All she knew was she was nearly at the point of no return.

"Ichabod..." she breathed, her fingers tightening around his grip as he parted her folds and flicked his tongue against her most sensitive place.

And then it was washing over her, her belly and thighs clenching as her body shook in the height of pleasure.

Eyes clenched shut, she rolled her hips against his mouth, desperate for him to take her further, to make it continue.

Head turned into her arm, she moaned into the sleeves of her dress as the sinful sensations rocked her to her core, taking her to places she wished she could set up house and stay.

If only...

The way he eased his ministrations to light caresses, his tongue almost lazily twirling in her folds, as her body settled down with a tingling sensation brought a smile to her face.

He was perfect.

"Have I properly made it up to you, my love?" he whispered against her sensitive flesh.

She rolled her eyes. "Are you fishing for compliments?"

His mouth trailed to her thigh with a brush of his lips here and there.

"Perhaps," he answered, as he began moving up her body, pressing his mouth over her soaked dress.

"Well, you're not getting one," she bit out, in a faux angry tone.

Head buried between her breasts, he muttered, "I'd wager I'd get a compliment from Betsy."

Senses returning to her, she remembered why she was angry in the first place.

Tearing her hands from him, she shoved at his shoulders until he was on his knees over her and she was leaning up on her elbows with a glare. "Excuse me?"

A shrug was her answer as he brushed some straw from his shirt, his expression serious and rather condescending. "You heard me. Perhaps, I'll pay her a visit tonight and allow her to partake of some of my more..." He smirked at her. "Hidden talents."

Infuriated, she gripped the front of his shirt and shoved him down next to her where she wasted no time in straddling his thighs and jerking him up to within a few inches of her face. "You want Betsy to learn something about you?"

Releasing him to fall back to the hay, she pushed his undone trousers down his legs to reveal his throbbing length before she wrapped her fingers around it and teased it against her entrance.

As she began lowering herself over him, a shaky breath slipped between her lips as his hands found her hips with a tight grip.

When she'd gathered herself, she leaned over him and continued, "Betsy Ross will see you tonight." With a telling roll of her hips, she whispered over the exposed skin of his neck, "And she's going to know exactly who you belong to."

With that, she clamped down on him, her lips finding their place on his flesh as their dance began. The way he handled her, even in the most heated of moments was always still so gentle, but, at this moment, with the storm raging outside, she wanted none of it as her own storm was thundering through her. Biting down, she heard him gasp as his fingers dug into her painfully.  
"Katrina..."

The next thing she knew, they were rolled over with him now above her. In the movement, she lost her grasp on him and fell back to the straw as he hovered over her, holding himself up on his hands as he stared down at her with a look she'd never seen on him. It was animalistic without question and it left her feeling more aggressive than ever.

Fingers tangling in his hair, she nudged him and then he was upon her, his mouth everywhere and his lower body moving in and against her at a nearly unrestrained pace.

Attempting to get a handle on her breathing, she trailed her fingers up his back, her nails biting into his skin in ways she was sure were leaving evidence.

His groan of approval, one that came from deep within the back of his throat, hummed against her skin, leaving her more aroused than she'd been of late.

When he lifted himself from her slightly, her wet clothes, once warm from his body heat, allowed a chill to seep into her skin.

His powerful thrusts continued as he breathed heavily above her, his hot breaths hitting her face in rapid beats.

It wasn't enough to let him love her. She wished it was, but the hurt still heavy in her heart wouldn't allow it.

Shoving at him, she once again rolled them to where she was in control. Hands on his chest, she snapped her hips against his as his flushed gaze jerked to hers and he chuckled through panted breath.

"My, my, you're in a mood."

Nails now digging into his neck and dragging downward, she took a moment to admire the angry red marks left in their wake.

"It's your fault."

Even in the midst of drawing pleasure from her, he somehow managed an eye roll. "Is this encouragement to misbehave more?"

"Yes, actually," she answered shallowly. "I love punishing you."

With that, she clenched her inner muscles and took pleasure from the way his mouth fell open as he tilted his head backwards and his body arching off the ground as he continued thrusting into her with an abandonment she'd never before witnessed.

"Katrina," he breathed as he jerked against her, his whole body tense and pulsing.

For her part, she increased her speed until she was twisting her hips with little control, her breathing short and labored as the heat fueled pressure built in her belly, scorching her insides with unrestrained chaos.

Leaning forward, she pressed her hands into the straw as she began kissing along his shoulder and neck.

The way his fingers dug into her hips indicated his approval, something she wasn't pleased by in the least. This was a punishment, not a reward.

Teeth clamping down into his flesh, she enjoyed the way his fingers tightened around her as he pulled her up, his eyes bearing clear shock as he asked, "What are you doing?"

Fingers reaching between them to trace over the clear bite mark just below his jaw where his beard ended, she said honestly, "Marking you."

"Marking me?" he asked incredulously. "I'd say you've already more than done that."

Narrowing her eyes, she tersely replied, "Betsy doesn't seem to have gotten that information."

An exasperated sigh left him as he rolled over her, pulling a slight moan from her as he was still buried deep inside of her.

"I thought we were past this."

"We are," she answered as if it were obvious. "I know that you're mine in every way imaginable, but is it really so wrong of me to want every other person in the world to know it as well?"

He lifted one of his hands to brush her hair from her face. "My love..."

"She did it on purpose, Ichabod. She thinks she actually has a chance."

A painful ache existed at the top of her lungs, one that was nearly suffocating.

"Then, she's a fool," he whispered, his fingers tracing her cheek. "Nothing and no one has had a chance since the moment I laid eyes on you."

Eyes falling to his chest, she nodded. "I know."

"We've only been married for three months," he offered. "People are still filled to the brim with gossip about us and how we came to be. Once it dies down, so will all the rest of it. No one will take notice of us any longer."

She smiled, his words bringing her comfort. "We'll be just as boring as the rest of them."

A grin finally formed on his lips as he nudged his hips more snugly against her.

"Hardly." He slipped his hand under her thigh and pushed further into her. "There's nothing boring about you."

Eyes fluttering, she gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer, taking him and all he had to give with open arms.

If Ichabod Crane was anything, he was faithful to his word. At least, when it came to her. Little doubt existed in her heart as to his devotion to her, but it didn't hurt to hear or see it.

When it was all over and his warm seed had coated her belly, their skin sticking together from the rain and sweat, she was more sure of his love than ever. However, that didn't mean she couldn't milk this for all it was worth.

"I just want you to know," she panted, her fingers tangled in the back of his hair. "That I'm not done punishing you."

Tingles shot down her spine to accompany his breathless chuckle against her skin.  
"Thank God."


End file.
